Starlight
by Ronnie.Meets.Paper
Summary: ON HIATUS / When Gabriella Fox, a pretty teen superstar who hates fame, comes to Forks to live with her mom, she finds out a dark secret. At school, she meets Edward Cullen and falls for him. Add Bella into the equation and things get complicated.
1. Chapter 1 Farewells

**A/N - My first fanfic! Please review! And hang on for more will come! :)**

* * *

My dad drove me to Phoenix's local airport in his blue, white and red police cruiser. So much for being inconspicuous – I already saw about five or six "fan vans" following me on the way here.

"Um, Chad?" I asked nervously, fiddling with my hoodie zipper in the back seat.

"It's dad you know. I thought from _all_ these years you've spent with me that you'd remember what to call me." He threw a little laugh and then asked, "So what's bothering you Gabby? Is it moving to a new town or that the town you're moving to is too tiny for you?"

My dad, Chad, was a highly respected police officer in Phoenix, and somehow, he became my manager _and _bodyguard. The only reason I need a _bodyguard _was because I was too famous for my own good. One word that would've described me in Phoenix (and everywhere else for a fact) was _superstar_. I was constantly surrounded by people, mainly adoring fans, for my musical, acting and modeling skills. Whenever I went into a shop or restaurant, I was instantly recognized and that kind of constant fame got overwhelming.

In fact, I just hated about everything fame brought with me: the screaming fans, the creepy stalkers, the annoying paparazzi, tabloids and lack of my own time. I was booked every weekend and every weeknight – it's a good thing I've got my own personal teacher. But too bad she was fired because of my "big" move.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, also inhaling the scent of my shampoo. Freesias and lavenders, those were a couple of my favourite plants.

"No _dad_, I'm actually relieved to be moving to a new town, especially a smaller one. I just hope nobody's going to recognize me…" I trailed off, a bit paralyzed with the fear of this "fame situation" starting all over again.

"Honey, _calm down_. You're going to be all right, especially since you are moving to a town named after some piece of silverware. Forks. Huh. No one here is even going to bother to look for you _there_." He flashed me a grin from the driver's seat. Suddenly, his face sobered. "But if they _do_ happen to find you in Forks, you can always move back with me and Penelope. We'd both love to have you stay with us while Penelope's on tour, and you know that I don't mind being _both_ of your bodyguards."

I sighed. Penelope was my dad's girlfriend since my dad moved away from my mother, and Penelope happens to be a singer too, but on a much lesser scale than I am. She was going on tour this year in hopes of bigger fame. I didn't want to hold her back by staying.

Slowly, I looked up from my sweater to face Chad. "No, no. It's okay. _I'm _okay. Really. I'd like to stay in Forks to finish high school. And maybe to see what Joyce is fussing about."

Joyce, my mother, had let me visit Forks to see her and my best friend Jacob Black every summer vacation, and in return, she visited me in Phoenix every holiday and birthday. But last year was different. On my Sweet Sixteen, my mom had said that it would be her last time visiting me and I wasn't allowed to see her in Forks if I kept on living in Phoenix. I asked her what she meant by that and she put it into these cryptic words, "You _have_ to choose whether or not to live with me, your mother, in _Forks_. _Permanently_. I can't keep on visiting – it's a waste of money and time. You have to choose _soon_ because in this stage, it is crucially _important_.". I was going to ask her a bunch more questions regarding what she said, but she said she won't say anything more unless I chose to live with her and that she didn't mean to be rude, but for some reason, it was _important _to her.

Chad let out a chuckle. "Just don't worry, Gabby. Remember who you are and that you are _invincible_." He said it as though I were a hero, and quite frankly, I didn't think so myself. I didn't even bother to make myself into a quadruple-threat by adding dancing in my crazy life because I think dancing is _dangerous_. What hero is afraid of _dancing_? Apparently, me.

There's one big issue I have with including dancing into my once hectic schedule – I'm very clumsy. Sometimes I feel that I have two left feet and no hand-eye co-ordination. Which is very, _very_ true. Once, I managed to hit ten students in the head with a volleyball, by accident of course, in just _one_ gym period. From then on, I tried to stay away from any unnecessary physical activity that could, and would, cause injury or pain. Even though I try so hard, the paparazzi, unfortunately, had the opportunity to take a couple shots of me almost falling off the stage during a rehearsal, or tripping over cables on movie sets, or even stumbling and hitting myself into the mall's restroom door in a hasty attempt to escape a half-crazed fan.

I hoped desperately that I could live like any ordinary teenage girl could in Forks, the little cold and rainy town in the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State that now seemed to promise peace and refuge compared to this hot and sunny place of Phoenix that only seemed to exhaust and overwhelm me.

"Gabby? _Do_ you remember who you are?" Chad said, interrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to reality.

I nodded obediently. I never wanted to upset anyone, especially my only dad.

"Nope. You know that's not a good enough answer for me. So let me repeat it again. _Do you remember who you are?_ Say it loud and proud!" He said it so loudly and enthusiastically that I just had to give a little snort and smile.

"Of course I remember who _I_ am. I am Gabriella Anna Fox, only daughter of Joyce and Chad Fox, the nurse of a small town and a police officer of a big one. I lived in Phoenix, Arizona and I'm going to live in the little unknown town named after silverware! Forks, Washington, right?" I paused for confirmation. In the mirror up front, I saw Chad laugh and nodded approvingly. "Ok, where am I? Now I remember! I am a musician that sings and played many different instruments fluently by the time I was fourteen. I am an actress that can lie and fight on the screen but cannot do those things off camera. I am a model with my mom's flattering figure and features, with my dad's brown eyes and matching wavy hair. I am Gabriella Anna Fox, and I am proud of myself."

Once I was done my well-rehearsed speech that my dad programmed into my brain since becoming a celebrity, I saw Chad's eyes were a bit watery. Anxiously, I was about to ask him what's the matter, but then I saw him smiling. He was crying because he was _proud_ of me.

"That's my girl!" He whispered, too overcome with emotion to speak any louder.

I tried to wipe away the tears that were already starting to spring up to their own accord with the back of my hand. It was useless. Once the tears came, they can't stop. It's like trying to stop a hurricane or calm a tsunami – it's absolutely impossible. All you can do is let it run its course.  
On the radio, Kesha's "_Tik Tok"_ song came on, blaring loudly through the cars tiny speakers. My dad froze for a second, and squinted at the display screen and finally turned down the volume. Then Chad turned.

"Gabby, to be honest, I think your compositions are a lot better than this modern-day rubbish. And one line in the song reminded me to ask you something…" A minute or two ago, we were happy and chatty, but now…it was serious. Almost business-like.

My throat was so tight, it was like I had forgotten how to breathe. I knew that "_Tik Tok"_ was an inappropriate song and sets a bad example for many young girls. Fortunately, I never was influenced by anyone who seemed to have a certain attitude like a sleazy, perverted, or violent attitude.

But just knowing this piece of information wasn't enough for me to relax. Chad could literally talk about anything to me since we rarely had awkward moments because he was always open-minded and positive. From looking at his serious, business expression, I had a feeling that this conversation wasn't exactly going to be one of those positive, cheery pep talks. It was going to be one of those "you're going to agree with me, whether you like it or not" chats.

The silence in the car was almost unbearable now. _Someone had better say something,_ I thought frantically.

Chad opened his mouth to speak.  
_  
Thank God! He's going to speak! _The thought was so relieving that my back slumped against the seat and I released the breath I hadn't known I had been holding.

"Gabriella, if you ever find a boyfriend when you're in Forks, you'd better bring him to see me as soon as you can. If he can't come, _I_ will. Got that sweetie?" He was grinning openly now, but his brown eyes were serious.

Once his words came out of his mouth, I became almost giddy with relief. I've never dated a guy before, even though there was dozens after me like obedient little puppies. They all just seemed the same though; they all wanted the same thing in a girl. They wanted good looks and good status. They wouldn't even look for anything deeper than that. Even with my fellow actors and celebrities, all they cared about was who had more status, looks and money. Since the moment I realized this truth, or what I thought was the truth, I gave up on romantic interests and started to do things that would bring a positive effect into my life like my studies. I only became a celebrity because Chad wanted me to, and I couldn't refuse since I didn't want to upset him, even though, deep inside, I hated to be the centre of attention. It's shocking, but it's the truth. If Chad hadn't brought the "it would be nice if you were a celebrity" situation, I probably would be like any normal teenage girl, doing homework and hanging out with friends on weekends.

I thought about my words for a minute and then flashed him an honest and genuine smile.

"Yes. I've got it. But I don't think I'll find anyone special in _Forks_, a tiny town, if I can't find anyone special _here_." I gave out a little snort and then, suddenly, we burst out into a round of laughter.

"Oh, and by the way sweetie, you've got to get on the plane in _ten_ minutes. I'm going to miss you, you know. You also know that you'll _have_ to reply to my texts, calls and emails – just to be safe."

"Wow. That's almost like homework – checking my cell, the home phone and the handy-dandy purple iMac you bought for me last year just to see if you contacted me. But don't worry, I will. And I'll miss you too."

"Remember to say hi to your mother for me." He said almost wistfully. He separated and divorced my mom, Joyce, when I was an infant just because he wanted to live in a big city and raise me there, but Joyce refused to leave Forks because she said "It's dangerous to go live in a big city because everyone will know your name, which is very dangerous if you ask me.". That little argument grew and grew to the point where they divorced, and Chad is still very guilty because he felt that it was his fault.  
_  
Another one of her very cryptic phrases,_ the little voice in my head thought. _When will she ever say something so you can actually understand it?  
_  
"I will!" I said, tugging along a couple of luggages with wheels as I ran, and stumbled, towards the gates. "Love you!"

"Love you too Gabby! Remember to reply to my texts, calls and emails…" His voice was already tuning out as the automatice doors behind me closed. I could already hear some shrieks and people calling my name as I walked in line to check-in.

My time in the line was horrendous. The line was as long as the Amazon River, in my opinion, since it wasn't going any faster than a turtle in a race. As time passed by, I could feel the crowd's stares and pointing fingers on me as if I have an elephant on my back. I felt my cheeks start to burn – an automatic response to any strong emotion I come running into.

Finally I made it to the counter, and as the man checked my passport, he took out a slip of paper and a pen.

I looked at him questioningly, wondering what in the world is going on. Did I do something wrong? It wasn't like I have committed any crimes or felony.

He looked pretty sheepish now as he handed the slip of paper and pen to me. With a shock, I realize that the slip of paper has a photo of a little girl on it. He blushed and asked "Can I get your autograph, Miss Fox? It's for my…um…uh…niece. Yes! My niece!"

I didn't need to do this but I knew it would upset him so I just said, in an indifferent voice, "May I ask whom I autograph it to?"

"Kellie. Kellie Smith." The man said, still a bit of pink in his cheeks.

"Alright…"I said as I scribbled "_To Kellie Smith, From Gabriella Fox"_ onto the photo. Calmly, I handed the pen and paper back to the man. "May I get on my flight now?"

"Uh, yeah. Turn to your right once you reach the hallway." He grinned, as if to say "maybe you're interested in me too?".

I just rolled my eyes and gave a little giggle, which is what I do with every guy infatuated with me so they don't feel that bad that they got rejected. "Thanks."

I got on my flight and settled into my seat so I could wait out the next 4 hours it would take to get from Phoenix to Forks.

From Phoenix to my mother.


	2. Chapter 2 Arrival

Over the plane's intercom, I heard a voice saying that we will be landing in Seattle in less than fifteen minutes, but I was too engrossed with my thoughts to be aware of what was going on around me.

_What was it my mother was talking about that seems to be so important?_ I thought to myself. I doubted that it was anything good. _And_ it must be a big secret since Joyce hadn't wanted to tell me if I didn't move to live with her in Forks, _permanently._

_I wonder if she'll finally tell me what all this commotion is about. If she doesn't tell me, then…_ I trailed off, looking out the plane's little circular window overlooking the green forests and dull grey skies. It was raining – it was the norm in this town my mother once said. _Then…I don't know _what_ I'll do._

And what about my new school? What would it be like having rules and classmates? Will they be friendly or will they just exclude me from their social circle? What if they recognize me? How will they react? And the biggest question that was circling in my mind was: are the paparazzi, fans, stalkers and tabloids going to follow me _here_? To my new, small town of _Forks_? Will I _ever_ be able to live life like a normal teen?

All of these questions made my head dizzy and I started to hyperventilate. _Breathe, just BREATHE Briella!_ I ordered myself to inhale and exhale like I did when I was in yoga and Pilates to straighten myself out.

Briella was going to be my new nickname in Forks since most people in Phoenix called my "Gabby" a lot. I wanted to leave my old life behind and move onto my new one. Plus, Briella sounded more mature and sophisticated than "Gabby" did.

Once the plane landed in Seattle and when I got out of the airport with an over-sized pair of sunglasses for my disguise, I spotted Joyce coming towards me from the parking lot.

Me and my mom looked very similar that we could've pulled it off as sisters. I received most of my traits from my mom: the model figure, the pale and creamy skin tone, full lips, and every other feature except the colour of my eyes and hair – a shocking and rare colour of brown – which I inherited from Chad.

As Joyce strolled towards me, a couple of men hooted from across the street. I groaned mentally in response. _Perverts, ugh._

"Hi Joyce!" I said as brightly as I could.

"Hi Gabriella. I bet your dad told you the same thing that I am going to say: call me _mom_." She was smiling now, showing all of her perfect pearly-white teeth that, coincidentally, I also inherited from her.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Yes, that's what Chad said except he didn't want me to call him _mom._ And I won't call you 'mom' unless you call me by my new nickname – 'Briella'." I put extra emphasis into my nickname, not that I needed to. Joyce is mature enough to understand what I'm saying, even though sometimes, I talk incoherently and won't make much sense.

"Sure, sure _Briella_. We've got a deal from now on, then. I call you 'Briella' as long as you call me 'mom'. Deal or no deal?" She said, imitating the voice of the host of the "Deal or No Deal" TV show that we always watched when in Phoenix.

"Deal!" I grinned.

"Let's just get your luggage into my – I mean _your_ – car." That little stumble in her words made me a bit more suspicious.

We walked over to a white BMW M3 Coupe E92 that I'd notice anywhere. It was my car back in Phoenix. How in the _world_ did it get _here_?

"Mom, I'm confused. Why is my car from Phoenix doing _here_, in Forks?" I looked over to Joyce for an answer.

"Honey, your dad sent your car because he thought you might need a ride to school." She gave me sympathetic gaze.

"I really appreciate it but doesn't Chad realize that the paparazzi have my car model, colour _and_ license plate memorized?" My voice rose up on another octave with panic and horror. From the way I was feeling at that moment, I felt like I could do an excellent thriller or horror movie. "Doesn't he _realize_ that this particular car could ruin my chances of living a _normal_ life here?"

"Yes, I agree with you. Your father can be insensitive at times and he never thinks everything through." Her voice wavered and then she coughed to cover it up. I examined her expression closely enough to see some leftover hurt and pain from their divorce. "I have an idea. What if we swap cars? Your shiny BMW for my battered and rusty blue Ford?" It seemed to me that she had to muster up a lot of strength to give me a tiny smirk.

"_That_ would be a whole lot better than messing up my chances of being normal. I guess we have a deal. But how would you explain it to your co-workers at the hospital?"

Joyce's smirk became more pronounced. "I guess I could say that I got a raise or something. Maybe won it from a lottery and such. Come on, get in. I bet you're tired."

She was right. I was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. A girl can only handle so much, even if she were a _superstar_. I sighed, hopped in the passenger seat and rested my head against the surface of the cold car window.

When I was about to close my eyes, I heard my mother say, "Oh, and honey, the delivery men already dropped off your massive piano yesterday. As well as your other chunky instruments and junk."

"Mmm. Don't call my babies _junk_. They're special and they're mine." I mumbled, too far gone to give a better answer. My breathing became even and my heart rate slowed to a safer pace as I fell into a dreamless sleep.

- - -

"Briella, honey? We're home." Joyce said softly, but I knew she was trying to wake me up to see the house that would _permanently_ give me shelter to sleep in and eat in and shower in and…well, it was my new home.

Slowly, with much effort, I opened my eyelids to take a peek at the exterior of the house. It was nice and quaint, sort of like an old-fashioned country home on the prairie. It had a nice wooden porch with a hammock, and a bright blue front door. The house was only two stories high, with brick exterior, and my bedroom is the room that overlooks the little ash fault driveway that can hold up to four cars, depending on their parking positions. We have a couple trees on our property, one near my only bedroom window and one in the backyard, and the rest of the trees are found in the dark forest only less than a block away. Overall, our street was lonely, which was good. No paparazzi could ever stalk me to a quiet street like this, and we only had one neighbour sharing our little street. Joyce once told me that our neighbour was a police officer in this town, just like Chad, but he was the chief of police of this tiny town and he lived a mere three blocks away from us.

I was utterly blank of any thoughts or words, until a new thought came into my head like an angry bull. _Why has Joyce brought me _here?

I cleared my throat and knotted my fingers in my lap. "Mom?" My voice was laced with the perfect amount of curiosity and confusion, and most of all, frustration.

"Yes?" Joyce asked hesitantly, instantly wary by the tone of my voice.

"Can you _please_ tell me what's so important?"

"Important about what sweetie?" She was playing dumb, I just knew it.

"Why is it _so _important that I move to Forks _permanently_ or else I can't see you anymore? Why is it _so_ 'crucially important' in this stage of my life? And _why_ did you say I had to choose so _soon_?" My voice trembled and I felt the familiar hot stinging sensation of tears coming to my eyes. Soon they would build up like a dam and then spill over, creating an ugly mess.

"Shh. Don't worry, my darling. What's so important would be really unbearably shocking for you right now that I suggest that you go inside while I explain." She fished out the house keys from her pocket and twirled them around her index finger. "Are you hungry? All the explanations you are waiting for are going to build quite an appetite for you." Joyce looked at me intently with her eyes the colour of emeralds, scanning me as though I had broken my nose. Then she nodded once and said, "Come on, let's go in."

I numbly picked up my luggage from the back, shut the BMW's car door, and hauled my stuff up the wooden porch steps. Turning around to look at my mom, I noticed that she making weird hand gestures and was murmuring something under her breath, so low I couldn't even hear a word. Was she crazy or delusional or mentally ill?

_She's not, she's your mother,_ I thought calmly. If that's what she does to welcome people into her home, nonetheless her own _child_, I would deal with it somehow. Anyway, she's as normal as anyone these days, unlike me which always seems to have a big neon sign above my head saying "Gabriella Anna Fox is right here! Come and get her!".

Finally, Joyce unlocked the door and flicked on the lights with one flip of her hand. The first thing I saw was our black cat, Salem, sitting calmly at the top of the carpeted stairs, as if she knew I was coming. My arm was covered in gooseflesh as the hairs on the back of my neck started to rise. _Something is…off here_, I thought warily.

Then I saw the interior of the house. It was as though a _really_ famous interior designer came here to bring their ideas to life, mixing in traditional, contemporary and modern in all sorts of coordinating ways. The kitchen was right to my right, and I got a glimpse of shiny _new_ stainless steel appliances like fridges that can produce ice cubes with a touch of a button, or a dishwasher that can run twenty different cycles, oven tops, double ovens, built-in microwaves and so on. Where in the world did Joyce get all this _new_ stuff from? Last time I'd been here, the house looked so ordinary and _normal_, like an average person with an average salary. Now, well, it looked like a _celebrity's _house. Ironically enough, I was a 'celebrity' and wanted nothing but a normal life, which includes a normal kitchen. Everything looked so shiny and pristine that I feared I would break it by being the clumsy and un-coordinated girl I am.

"Um, mom?" I asked frantically, wondering if I were secretly being taped on a reality television show that would be shown across the country, if not, _the world_.

Joyce looked at me steadily and said, "Briella, I think you should really sit somewhere before I explain, well, _everything_." I hoped that "_everything_" included telling me why and how she had gotten all these _new_ renovations.

I took a couple cautious steps into the front foyer, which had supremely high ceilings for this kind of house and a shiny, and of course, _new_ crystal chandelier. I looked past the white marble kitchen eat-in island to see our _new_ living room. Gosh, it was so different than what I was used to seeing here.

The living room had a couch with clean modern lines and a sort of ivory to beige looking colour, depending on the way the sun shone on it, and on top of the couch, there were about two graphic cushions on the ends. The windows were also upgraded to _very_ large windows that start at approximately the ceiling down to about where the floor is. They made the living room sort of look like a modern-day castle, but of course, I never wanted to live in a castle; it would only attract more attention.

Even slower than before, I parked my bags on the foot of the stairs and crept over the _new_ rich mahogany wood floors to sit lightly on the _new_ couch. As you can probably see, I have some issues with _new_ stuff and I have had that "issue" since I ever had "fame", so it really goes a long way back, maybe even before becoming disgustingly famous.

I looked around the room once more, trying to take in all of the _new_ things. _New _mahogany hardwood flooring in the living room and _new_ white marble tiles in the kitchen to match the countertops were a couple _new_ things done here. There were also _new _shiny kitchen appliances, _new_ soft couches, wooden tables, fireplace, armchairs, bar stools in the eat-in kitchen that seemed to be padded in…_velvet_?

_Who in the world puts _velvet_ on bar stools? Oh right, "celebrities",_ I thought wryly.

Finally, when I was done my skimming and scanning, I flickered my gaze towards my mom, who was in her, I mean, _our_ _new_ shiny kitchen fridge, getting out a pitcher of iced tea and some slices of watermelon. As Joyce turned around, I got a glimpse of her expression. She had her mouth in a tight line and her brow was furrowed, which usually meant that she was thinking hard about something or that she was really worried. And by the looks of this situation, it could be either one or _both_. But before I got a good look at her face, our eyes met and her expression turned into an embarrassed tiny smile.

She cleared her throat and then called, more like _yelled_, "Salem! Come _down_ here right _now_! It is now time for the –" Joyce stopped in mid-sentence as Salem, our black little green-eyed cat came sprinting downstairs and jumped up on the couch to sit right beside me.

I was now ready to burst with confusion and frustration, as well as the tears that have accumulated while I was in the BMW. _What _is_ it time for?_ I wondered, thinking hard. My breathing sped up as well as my heart.

I opened my mouth, looked directly into my mother's eyes, and asked, "Mom? Can you just _please_ just tell me what is going _on_? I'm already here in _Forks_, at _home_, and I am _sitting down _on the _couch_ right _now_. There is no need to postpone this explanation any longer."

Joyce came out of the kitchen reluctantly, holding a silver tray of two glasses of what I presumed was iced tea and two plates of sliced fresh watermelons. She set them down on the chestnut brown coffee table in front of me. Then she sat in the matching brown upholstered armchair right across from me.

She held my gaze and slowly said, "Yes, you're right. I can't hold this out any longer." My mother looked down at the tray of snacks and back up to my confused face.

"I'll just say the most important thing first. You, Gabriella Anna Fox, are a witch."


	3. Chapter 3 Explanations

I was not expecting that answer. That instant, everything seemed unreal and unfamiliar to me.

_Was Joyce actually trying to pull a prank on me? Maybe I _am_ on a show that will be broadcasted to millions…_ I thought dazedly, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for what my mother had just told me. _Maybe I just heard her say "witch" instead of another word like…_ No, '_bitch'_ can't be right. My own mother would never call me that, not in a million years. A sick sort of dread was gathering in the pit of my stomach.

"I-I-I'm… a _witch_?" I stuttered to Joyce with slowly dawning shock and disbelief.

Joyce nodded her head agonizingly slow, confirming that I am, in fact, a "witch". Her green eyes appraised me, taking in all of my movements and expressions, trying to look for something – I just didn't know _what_.

I swallowed and tried to take some deep, calming breaths. Only this time it didn't work.

"E-explain." I managed to croak out, unable to keep my voice steady as I was on the edge of hysterics. _Maybe I'm just going insane. All the fame has to go to my head at some point._

My mother pressed her lips into a thin line. "Well, where do I start?"

I just stared silently into her emerald eyes as she took a sip of iced tea and tapped her long, pale fingers against the armrest of her chair.

Joyce coughed to clear her throat and set the cup back on the table. "Well, you are a witch by blood. I am a witch, my mother was a witch, her mother was a witch and so on." She paused and took a hold of both of my hands. "Do you understand what I'm saying so far, Briella?"

"I think I do." I whispered back.

"Good. We are the direct line of witches that descend from Hecate, the witch queen. From Hellewise, who was Hecate's daughter, and the daughter after _her_, we are all witches by blood. Each daughter from our line is an only child and will bear a daughter of their own before they can die, understand?"

"I guess. So you, and I guess me too, will only have one child, which would be a daughter, and then we die?" My voice trembled with the thought of my mom dying. _Is that why she brought me here? To say goodbye? To tell me what to expect of myself?_

"Oh no. No, no, no Briella. We don't _have _to die after we have our daughter. It's just that we can't die _until_ we have a daughter. This is because of the prophecy our ancestors put on us so our line would never end." She said softly, breaking out a small smile.

"Oh. Ok then." Relief washed over me, filling the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

"Want me to continue?" Joyce asked.

"Yes please." At least it wasn't the worse news imaginable. _Mom is going to be alright_.

I shakily picked up a slice of watermelon and bit into it, wiping away the juice that escaped the juicy piece.

"We are the Chosen Ones because we are the most powerful line of witches in recorded history. We are the peacemakers in the world. We try to keep the balance with the help of our powers. But beware Briella. There are others out there who want to destroy the balance because of their greed and selfishness. One line of witches particularly." She gripped my hand even tighter and had such an intense look in her eyes that I had to set down my watermelon.

"They are the Marked Ones. They are the opposite of us; they want power instead of peace. We Chosen Ones are all females, as you can probably see, and they, the Marked Ones, are all males. They have had a similar prophecy to ours laid upon their line for ages so that their line was never-ending. Briella, they are _evil_. _Bad. Awful. Cruel. Selfish. Uncari-_"

"Uncaring? I think I got the point, mom. The Marked Ones aren't very good." I interrupted her. "But _what_ does it have to do with _us_?"

"The Chosen Ones have always overpowered the Marked Ones, but not by a lot. The Marked Ones are the second most powerful witch line in history and they are after us. They want _us_ to be partnered with _them_ so they can have the most power in the universe. But we _don't_ want that. If we did that, the balance would be disrupted and that is horrible in itself. Too much power. Too much destruction. Too much death. And if we have a child with _them_, then they will control the child to do their biddings. Imagine, Briella, the child of the two most powerful lines of witches in _history_ being controlled by the Marked Ones." She carefully released my hand. "Imagine what that would be like, Briella." Joyce said solemnly.

And I did imagine the scenario so vividly that it sent little shivers of disgust up and down my spine. Very quietly I said, "Then what do I do about it?" as I closed my eyes, trying to push away the nasty images my imagination had conjured up for me.

She seemed to relax into the armchair, even though it was only by a small fraction. Still, she kept her steady gaze upon me. "There's only one main thing you have to do, and it's _very_ simple."

I sighed in frustration. "And what exactly would that be?"

"Don't tell _anyone_ that you're a witch, let alone the Chosen One of this generation. If anyone finds out, you could ruin whatever plans you had in mind for your future or the Marked Ones will track you down. And chances are that both possibly could happen." She smiled dryly. "At least you wouldn't get burned to death like the innocents of the Salem witch trials some centuries ago."

"No problem, mom." _I wouldn't want to say anything anyway…I'm a big enough freak as I already am._ I added mentally. Then some of her words snatched my attention.

"Mom, what about the Salem witch trials?"

Joyce hung her head low, as if she were acknowledging the deaths and tragedies that were caused by the trials, then lifted her head and put on a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "The Salem witch trials killed innocent humans that were accused of witchcraft, but really, our line was the real witches they were looking for. Although the accusations were completely and utterly false, we strive to bring peace not destruction, the real witches escaped Salem before anyone found out. So there you go: one reason not to tell anyone your true identity. They could, quite literally, kill you. Good thing that you haven't had a daughter yet – the prophecy can keep you safe until then."

"Is that why you named our cat Salem? I'm a bit curious." Somehow, throughout all of these explanations, I was becoming stronger – strong enough to handle the burden of this secret I've been placed with, that is.

Joyce laughed. "Yes, I named our cat Salem after the Salem witch trials because the witch trials is a big part of our history – might as well remember it." She sighed and motioned Salem to her lap, and I noticed that the little black cat was already stretching out its limbs and climbing off the couch, padding its way to Joyce. _Just like a good little puppy…_I thought and I had a sudden urge to giggle at the irony, but I managed to swallow it down.

Once Salem crawled into my mother's lap, I noticed the striking resemblance my mom had to Salem. First, they both had the same emerald tint in their eyes. Second, Joyce's hair was the exact texture of Salem's fur; black, glossy and straight. And third, the one similarity that truly freaked me out, was that they seemed to totally understand each other. Which was _definitely_ weird. Not to mention that they moved gracefully and swiftly, and I am _not _capable of doing that – I'd trip or stumble every couple of metres here and there.

"Umm…" I muttered, wondering how to voice my thoughts properly. "Mom, do you and Salem understand each other? Like, actually _communicating_ and knowing what the other is trying say?" _There. I said it. I won't mind if she thinks her witch-and-disgustingly-too-famous-superstar-teenage daughter is mentally insane…_ I thought, knowing very well that I was thinking beyond the norms of sane teenage thoughts.

"Well, of course we do!" My mom looked flustered and surprised, and a bit pleased. I wondered if she actually wanted me to know this little fact too.

"So…can you please explain that?" I asked.

"It's because of a spell I did to help me understand Salem better. I can hear her speak if she wants me to hear, but she can understand me all the time, even when I don't want her to." She paused, looked at my confused face, then continued. "When Salem doesn't want to be understood, and she speaks, all I can hear is what everyone else can hear. Which, of course, would be a '_meow_' or something along those lines." Joyce gave a gentle smile to the dark cat she was petting on her lap.

"Wait, wait, wait! So you mean that you can understand Salem's cat talk? But only when she wants you to understand what she's saying, right?" This was all so _confusing_! My mom could talk to _Salem _and _vice versa_? Our black kitty? Whoa. I was on the verge of a major headache.

Joyce glanced back up at me, one perfect black brow arched over her emerald eyes. "Why, yes. Why do you think people associate cats, especially black cats, with witches?"

"Um…I think I understand." But my mind was screaming "_I don't understand a thing!_".

"Briella, do you want the ability to communicate with Salem? It'll only take a moment since there's two of us. And this would be your first spell you would partake in!" My mom's face lit up with so much excitement that I couldn't possibly say no.

"Sure, mom, but do I have to actually do anything?" If so, then what? What would I do? I just learned ten minutes ago that I was a witch! This is _so confusing._

"Just do what I say, okay?" Her voice now serious, but I could feel her holding in her excitement.

"Okay."

She lifted Salem up off her lap, and whispered what I think was "Stay right here. We're about to begin!" to her, picked up the silver tray, placed it on the counter of our _new_ kitchen, and settled back into the brown chair across from me. Then Joyce hoisted Salem up onto the spot on the coffee table where the tray once had been. She motioned me to lay both my hands on top of the cat's back just as she did. Once I placed my clumsy hands on the right spot, Joyce started chanting in a language I could only guess as Latin.

"Now repeat after me, Briella; '_tribuo vestri filia hic ops sermo ut successio of vestri cattus'._" _How in the world am I going to say that whole sentence when I only heard it _once? I wondered.

Somehow, the words dripped off my tongue with ease, as if I knew what I was doing, which I _didn't_.

Joyce nodded encouragingly at me and I felt a swell of pride. _Maybe Latin just comes naturally to me, even though I didn't know what I was doing_…

"In the name of the witch queen, our mother, Hecate, we ask that no harm is done when our power is unleashed. Now repeat this Briella," she took a small breath and said, "_Gratias ago vos_."

_Now _that_ I can repeat! It's so short…_I rejoiced.

I opened my mouth and said "_Gratias ago vos_". Suddenly, I felt a strange tingling rushing through me from my hands, which were laying on top of Salem's back. The strange tingling got stronger, rushing through my hands into me then back through me to Salem. The exchange of _power_ kept bouncing between the black cat and me until the tingling faded to a dull nothingness. I was surprised; I hadn't known it was _power_ causing the tingling. But somehow, in my subconscious or otherwise, I knew.

I looked up to my mother, who was looking at me the exact same way Chad did in the car before Kesha's "_Tik Tok_" interrupted us. With pride and happiness. I squirmed and fell back into the couch, utterly exhausted.

"Salem is very wise you know. She'll give you the best advice and friendship when she wants to." Joyce said softly, once again picking up Salem into her lap and petting her.

Salem purred and '_meowed'_ before shutting her eyes. _She's lucky, _I thought, _she gets to sleep even though I feel more exhausted…I think I feel more exhausted, don't I?_

"You're concert grand piano is over in the next room, Briella. And the music books are in the built-in bookshelf beside it."

"Oh, and by the way, please explain all this," I waved my arms around the room, "because last time it looked _normal_, not…well…_this._"

"Long story short: Chad wanted you to feel at home, well, your home in Phoenix that is. So he and his girlfriend-"

"Penelope." I supplied for her.

"And _Penelope_ called a few interior designers they knew and they set all this up. Chad said they were sworn to secrecy so they won't reveal your location." Joyce sighed.

I groaned silently. I should've known. If Chad gave me my car from Phoenix, why not my house, too?

"So…are you going to wake me up everyday? Before I injure myself in my sleep you know." I added hastily.

My mom knew that when I slept, most of the time I would either sleep talk or sleepwalk. And when I sleepwalk, add to that my natural clumsiness; it's a very dangerous combination. But when I sleep talk, it's equally horrifying because I have no control over what I say or even sing. So whenever I'm sleeping near my mom, she would wake me up before things got hazardous to my health.

Joyce regarded me with pity clear in her eyes. "Sorry honey, but I have to work everyday. Full time job; wake up early, come home late. Keeps me busy so I won't have to feel very lonely." She ran a hand through her perfect black hair. "I'm _really_ sorry. But I bought you a _very_ loud alarm clock so you won't even notice me gone."

"Can you remind me of what you do again? I kind of have forgotten." I grinned wearily.

"I'm not a specialist of some sort, you know that. I'm the head of nurses in the hospital here. Which means I've got to get going soon. Do you want anything to eat?" She questioned me with concern, much again like I was a patient with a broken nose.

I was dog tired and lost my appetite somewhere in the middle of our conversation, so just I shook my head and Joyce got up, grabbed her coat and petted Salem one last time. "I'll be back sooner or later. If you want anything, there's a bunch of microwavable entrées in the fridge. Love you, sweetheart!" She said in a rush as she grabbed her purse, keys and shoes and headed out the blue door.

"Love you, too, mom…" I whispered as the door slammed shut, leaving me and Salem alone.

Joyce was the head nurse of the Forks hospital so she's needed at all times, which means that I would be home alone a lot. Oddly enough, I can't stand her job as a nurse. I can sum up all my problems with being a nurse with one word: blood. I faint just at the sight or smell of it, and my head gets strangely woozy whenever the word "blood" is mentioned. I think it has to do with some film I did in my early days. It was a horror flick - full of murderers, missing limbs and _blood_. When I saw the featuring actress get splattered with fake blood across her "missing" leg, I sprinted for the nearest bush and threw up all my guts on it for a whole hour. After that, I fainted and the director found me just in time to do my scene, which was about five hours later. Since then, I couldn't stand blood, even fake blood, so every time there was blood involved with a scene, I would be excused from the set until it was over.

I toured around the house that I should've recognized but now has become an unfamiliar stranger. _Joyce should've given me a map of this place._ I had to admit that it was a _mansion_, even though the exterior looks like a two bedroom, one bathroom kind of house. Deliberately putting one foot in front of another to keep me from stumbling, I entered the room that Joyce has said contained my concert piano. The room was white and massively large so the darkness of my piano stood out like a sore thumb.

I walked up to it, running my fingers against the hard ivory keys. Sighing, I sat down and played myself a lullaby or two. Little did I know that Salem was watching me intently – too intently to look like a ordinary cat.

Once the melody ended with a _ritardando_, I constructed my way through each luxurious room to the main foyer, with its grand sweeping staircase and chandelier. _One step at a time, one step at a time,_ I chanted to myself, willing to keep my grip on the railing and keep my balance steady.

I found my room in an instant, but it didn't look _exactly_ like my room before, although it still had my favourite lavender paint around the walls. My room was bigger and my bed was so _humongous_ that it could've been custom-made to be one king size and a half. The window overlooking the grey looking sky and lonely driveway had a dark purple window bench, so I dragged myself onto it, staring out to nothing in particular, letting the tears stream silently down my cheeks.

_I'm a witch. A very powerful witch. A witch that holds everyone's fate in her hands. A witch that already has a big enough burden to bear. I'm a superstar in hiding. A talented person shying away from the crowd. A coward. I'm a coward. And I'm just an ordinary teenage girl! Why _me_? Why not someone else?_ I let my thoughts ramble on as I laid my overheated forehead on the cool pane of glass until an unfamiliar voice stopped me in my tracks.

"It will all be well, Gabriella. Do not take this out on yourself. It is not your fault." The voice was of a woman's, soft and sympathetic, gentle and caring. Almost like Joyce's voice, but yet, it wasn't.

I turned my unseeing gaze to Salem, shocked speechless. Salem chuckled, although it seemed between a laugh and a purr. "Yes, I do speak indeed. Now you must rest so you may have enough energy to attend your new schooling tomorrow." She jumped up on the bench next to me and stared at me until I felt like her emerald eyes were boring holes inside of me.

_High school – yet another stress added to my stressful life_, I thought tiredly, scooping up Salem in my right arm, I headed to my giant bed and collapsed. I didn't care that I didn't change into my pyjamas or that I haven't eaten at all. All I wanted was to escape my life. I welcomed the darkness that enveloped me as I fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N - Please review! I'd like to have at least 5 reviews to know that this story is well liked and appreciated. Next chapter will be about Briella's first day of school! I'll try not to keep you all waiting! Or...**

Okay? If you haven't read that little tidbit of an A/N (argh! _tidbit ... _) then I will repeat. R.E.V.I.E.W! Or else I will not update for more than a month! And yes, that's a threat on _both_ sides because it pains me not to work on this little fanfic I have here...*_snifle*  
_  
Main idea: REVIEW then you can get the next chappy faster! ;)

Oh, and tench u (little phrase my friend _Mona_ uses. You know who you are... :p) for reading this far! :D You can tell me if you want more or not by... yep, REVIEWING! That's the ONLY solution. To review. Got it? o_O

Lemme phrase that again... PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I PASS EVERY WAKING MINUTE WAITING FOR A DANG REVIEW! I AM NOTHING, I repeat (what is with me and _repeating_ things?), NOTHING! SO REVIEW PLEASE! Or the chapters will be held at bay...

5 DANG REVIEWS! That's ALL it takes to get me moving! Please? *_puppy dog eyes*  
_  
Yes, tell your friends and whatsoever. I just need 5 reviews! It REALLY IS A BARGAIN! *_sales voice_* "One fantaboulous chapter with Briella's _first_ high school experience. A bigger description of Briella's house will be with bargain. Edward Cullen *_teen girls scream*_ will also be included. ALL THIS for the price of FIVE REVIEWS! FIVE REVIEWS PEOPLE! IT'S NOT LIKE I'M ASKING FOR A FORKIN ESSAY! One or two sentences will do. Hell, ONE WORD will do! Just review! Please?!"

Sorry for wasting your time with my meaningless babble. Teehee. ^_^ *yawns*

So ... I'll leave you to *_cough_* REVIEW *_cough_*! :D

Ronnie - who is a bit sad that her first fanfic is not getting much love. And is a tad bit dog tired. Ronnie is now heavily annoyed that she uses words that sound like 'tidbit' frequently. :)


	4. Chapter 4 Good Morning

**A/N - Heys! :) **

**Yes! 11 reviews! *_Happy dance*_ Okay, so let me ask this one favor: can we make it 20 reviews for chapter 5? Hope so...:)**

**So I am very _very_ sorry it took me about THREE whole months (Yes, yes, I know. _Shame on me!_) but I do have my reasons. #1 - I was busy. Lame but true. With graduation and such, drama, rumors and gossip, and all the hype surrounding _The Twilight Saga: Eclipse _(It was AWESOME, let me tell ya! ;D) I was constantly booked for hours on end. _*Sigh*_ _Eclipse_ was definitely the best movie in the saga, and you know what? I absolutely ADORED it! And FYI - Taylor Lautner's packs are still there! He hasn't lost 'em! :) **

**Off topic...**

**My second reason for this horrible delay is that I had a very heavy writer's block sitting on the creative part of my noggin. I asked around for ideas but - eh! - no one bothered to lend me some... So it isn't all my fault, is it? :( So I am sorry (again) for the wait. And I'm also very apologetic about cutting this chapter shorter than I intended it to be...*tear***

**Review and more apologies after the chapter...='(**

**(Sorry for such a long wait...and the babble.)**

* * *

_Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...CRACK! _

The sound of rain mixed in with waves of strong winds crashed upon my bedroom window, causing the branch of the tree in the front yard to bang against the glass pane and me to roll restlessly in my fitful sleep.

My eyes fluttered several times and I woke up with a startling sense of shock that came along with realization.  
_  
I'm in Forks, not in Phoenix anymore. I'm not the same person I was in Phoenix either… _I thought sadly with resignation, knowing all too well that I couldn't do anything about being a witch. There was no way to reverse it, no way to cure it, no way to escape it. No way to be completely normal.

I sighed and stared up at the ceiling of my lavender room from my super-sized bed below. A buzzing sound bounced around the room and I lifted my head from my pillow enough to see it was my cell. I left it on vibrate, which was partially good because then otherwise I'd have more rest, but it didn't really matter anyway. The weather here wasn't as serene as I'd hoped and it ruined any chances of having a good night's sleep.

Rolling onto my side, I checked my phone. _3 missed calls, 7 unread messages_.

It must've been Chad. I promised him back in Phoenix that I would reply to each and every message and call and whatever he sent me, but this was simply ridiculous. Soon my fingers would blister by just replying to the first week's worth of texts. And no, I didn't want that to happen to my fingers, so I sent my dad a simple text back in reply to all his other messages.  
_  
Dad, next time could U msg me less? U know I wouldn't B able 2 answer all of them once…K? Luv, Gabby.  
_  
Once I put down the cellular, it vibrated. Again. I could picture Chad sitting on a chair next to a table with his phone on it, watching it intently until a reply from me came.

Chad's text read: _Ok Gabby. As long as U msg me once in a while, then I'll B fine. Missin U, Dad._

I knew I didn't have to reply to this, but the sudden urge to comfort my father became overwhelming. I watched as my fingers moved without any conscious demand or effort.  
_  
I miss U 2 Dad. And yeah, I will txt U maybe…once a week? Is that ok? It's really early rite now and I wanna get some ZZZ. Luv, Gabby.  
_  
I turned off my cell and flopped back onto the bed. Closing my eyes, I tried to blank out my mind to let rest catch me once again. Only this time, sleep didn't come.

Reality made me restless, and it eliminated all possibilities of sleep. So instead of sleeping, I began preparing for my first day of school.

As I sat up, I snuck a quick glance around my room. There were three white wooden doors situated around the room. I suspected that one of those doors led out of the room into the hallway and one of those doors to a closet.

My gaze fell upon a small blue LED digital clock on the nightstand where I had put my cell. _5:00 AM_. That was two whole hours before the alarm was set to go off. With a groan, I let my feet drop onto the floor and steadied myself. The floor creaked slightly under my weight as I slowly crept my way into one of the mystery rooms that one of the white doors harboured.

Frantically, I slid my hand around the wall of the dark room, trying to find a light switch before I injured myself. Once my palm found the switch, bright light closed in around me, glinting off the sink and mirrors, a bath tub _and_ a walk-in showering area. The bathroom was huge, probably three-quarters the size of my bedroom. Lights were fixed in multiple spots in the white ceiling, creating a clean look upon the neutral and green paint and tile shades. I bet the look the interior designers were aiming for here was an "earthly" atmosphere. I just hoped that the materials and fixtures they used here were "earth-friendly", else I'd have to complain.

I looked around the bathroom, taking in all the new things and things that stayed the same. Hardly anything stayed the same, in fact.  
When I was walking past one of the many mirrors plastered on the walls, I caught my reflection. My hair was all messy and frizzy, sticking out in bundles and tangles. I hated to admit it, but I resembled Medusa in the morning.

My eyes began to itch and I knew it was time for me to take out the contacts. The public eye recognized me as Gabriella Fox, a girl with ordinary yet strange brown eyes. Strange because they knew the brown in my eyes looked unnatural or odd. But if they noticed, they didn't mind or care nevertheless. The only reason Chad and I wore the contacts were to cover our real eye colour. If we didn't cover them, then people would recognize us instantly, just by looking into our eyes. Which, I take as a bad thing.

I turned on the glossy faucet to wash my hands and face. Then I took out the contacts and started searching in the cupboards below for a place to put them in. The cupboards were full of products – hair products, face products, nail products, body products. It was literally stocked to no return. It seemed as though if one more thing were to fit in there, all the contents of the shelf would come tumbling down onto the pristine tiles. The value of the products also seemed pretty big; it had all the big salon names and several quantities of them too.

I dug carefully within the stacks of shampoo and curling irons, making sure I didn't topple anything over, until I finally found a tiny box that could have been used for storing contact lenses in. It would have to do for now.

Facing my reflection once again, I looked warily at the girl's eyes. Hazel surrounded the outer rings of the irises, and more inwards toward the pupil, there was lavender. Purple surrounded the pupil, hazel surrounded the purple – that's what made Chad and I stand out in a crowd if we ever had to take out our lenses. It would only attract attention, which was why we chose to wear contacts in the first place. To blend in. Too bad for me – I would never be able to 'blend' in now that I've learned my true heritage. I can't just ignore the truth and I shouldn't always believe the lie.

The girl's eyes were troubled and sorrowful when they looked back at me. Her skin also seemed to take on a greenish tint – was that because of the room itself or the trees beyond the window? Well, her skin looked paler and greener, compared to the bright, creamy tones she had back in Phoenix. She had purplish bruises under her eyes – a clear sign that she hadn't had enough sleep lately. Her rose lips were trembling, slightly pouting. The girl in the mirror looked unhealthier than she once did: her limbs seemed frail, joints more pronounced, skin more pasty, and eyes sad and purple.  
_  
Yes. That's me. The REAL me. Not the Gabriella Fox fans and fame has come to love. This is the Briella Fox who is a witch now living in a town named after silverware…  
_  
A quiet pitter-patter shoved me out of my gloomy situation. I turned to the noise and saw Salem sitting silently at the bathroom entrance.

"Morning, Salem." I muttered sadly, leaving the '_Good'_ out of '_Good Morning' _on purpose.

"As well to you, Gabriella." Salem's gentle voice said. She paused and came closer to me until she was seated on the tile next to my sock-covered foot. "Joyce forgot many things to tell you yesterday. I thought I might tell you instead, seeing as she might not be back for quite some time."

I searched through the shelves for a towel as she carried on.

"First of all, we know you want to keep your fame a secret. So we have registered you at Forks High School as Gabriella _Harman_."

Confused, I stopped my search momentarily to shoot Salem a look of misunderstanding, then turned back towards the shelf and resumed looking. "Why _Harman_? Why not some other name? Some name more…common, maybe."

"Harman because that is the surname of our line of witches. It originally means 'Hearth Woman' but I guess they shortened it."

With a shrug, the black cat jumped onto the white stone countertop closest to me. I didn't mean to, but I jumped in surprise and then fell flat on my butt. Which hurt a _lot_. And I blamed it on my lack of balance.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I think that's going to leave a bruise. A really purple one. Good thing my favourite colour is purple, or else who knows what my reaction to a bruise would be." I said with a sigh, as I groped the counter for assistance.

"Alright, then I shall continue. You are to go sign in as Gabriella Harman. But before you leave for school, I think I should show you a few extra things you aren't currently aware of."

"Hmm. Can you wait for, like, ten minutes? Please? I _really_ want to get a shower in first." Aha, I finally found the perfect towel. Purple, small, soft and clean. But what I really wanted was to get clean and relax. I felt all grimy because I haven't done much hygienic things since I arrived here in…Forks.

Sighing, I randomly picked out a shampoo and conditioner bottle out from under the sink, smiling when I saw the label. _Lavender Blend._ Just my luck. I stuck my hand under the sink once more to grab a bottle of body wash and wasn't as lucky. _Vanilla Smoothie._ Maybe I wasn't as lucky as I thought, but still, it would have to do.

Now was the hard part. A shower or bath?

I spun myself around with closed eyes, stopping only when I became a tad bit dizzy. Opening my eyes, I found myself facing the walk-in shower.

Shower it is then.

Quickly undressing and showering, I found little relaxation I was hoping for. The hot water spitting out of the shower heads – I still couldn't find out why people needed more than _one_ shower head to take a simple shower – calmed my body while I was in the shower, but when I came out and dried myself in the warm, moistened air, my body became all tensed and stiff.

So much for relaxation.

When I was cocooned inside a fuzzy bathrobe, I slipped on a pair of pink bunny slippers I found lying around in the cabinet where I found the towel. I looked around the misty bathroom for Salem, but it seemed as if she disappeared.

"Salem?" I called out.

No answer.

I knew it was irrational, but I started to panic. I shuffled around the huge tiled space, keeping an eye out for a black little cat, but I found nothing.

One glance at the door crushed my suspicions.

The door was closed, meaning Salem had closed it, which also meant that Salem must be on the other side of that door. And that Salem was in no harm.

Gosh, sometimes my imagination was out of control! I scolded myself over and over again for thinking something bad could've happened to Salem, but in truth, Salem was perfectly safe. It should stay that way, too. I shouldn't come up with dangerous life-threatening situations just for the heck of it. My imagination was deadly – probably one of my most threatening assets.

I opened the white door to find Salem sitting on the country-sized bed, emerald eyes staring contentedly out the window.

"Salem? I think you can show me whatever you want to now…I guess…" I trailed off, panic still working its way out of my system.

"Good. Go to the bureau to your right and open the smallest drawer to your left. You will find a sleeping mask. I have tried to get a blindfold but this will have the same purpose, I suppose. Put the mask on so you cannot see a thing and sit on the bed."

I did what Salem asked me, but with a little more caution than usual. Didn't they know I had no balance? Didn't they know that putting me in this scenario would only endanger my health even _more_?  
_  
I guess I'll just have to endure it for the time being…_

Once I was sitting cross-legged on my unmade bed, I waited for more instructions and carefully obeyed the directions given. Stand up. Turn right. Grab the bed for support and guidance. Take twelve paces forward. Now take a step to your right. Pretty basic but it helped me from falling or tripping over the area rug. More instructions were fired at me by my cat until she told me to reach for a door knob and open a door.

Since my sense of touch was being controlled by Salem, my sense of sight has been temporarily taken away, and there was nothing much to hear or taste, I relied on my nose to sniff out my hiding place.  
_  
Smells like…cotton? New clothes? Jeans? Oh. _

Now I knew.

I was in my closet.

I just prayed that when I saw it, that it was no bigger than the bathroom…

Salem directed me more steps until I faced what felt like a bunch of flimsy, light dresses. Since when did I wear _dresses_? Well, not _formally_ of course. But I never wore dresses just for fun or casual occasion.

She told me to push through all the racks of clothing until I reached a door, which conveniently, there was. From there, Salem led me through a narrow staircase going upwards – so narrow that if I had to stretch my arms out to their full length, both of my palms would be laid flat against the cold walls.

At last, when I was at the top of the stairs and out of breath, the little black cat told me I could take off the sleeping mask.

And I did.

I looked around with wonder burning hot within me. It was a much smaller room than my bedroom below, but nevertheless, the room was spacious. In the middle of the room, a white grand piano stood tall and brilliant, stealing all the attention away from the dark room. It seemed to me as if this room was the opposite of the piano room downstairs – the room downstairs I didn't really mind, but this room definitely had more privacy. Downstairs, the piano was black in a white room; in here, the piano stood bright and white against the black backdrop and red carpeting, only to be lit by some sconces along the room and – a bonus – the skylight directly overhead of the white baby grand. I could picture myself in this room more often than others, seeking comfort and silence to figure out all the problems my life has yet to offer.

"Wow." I breathed.

I took it all in once more, this time taking in all the small details. Like the single red rose in a crystal vase lying on top of the piano.

"Do you like it?" Salem asked gently.

"Absolutely…" I trailed off, still struck with awe.

"Joyce insisted more rooms like these – hidden rooms and passageways. I thought I had better to give you a heads up. Now, would you play for me? You play the piano effortlessly well, I see."

"Um…well…okay, sure." I said as I dusted off my hands and pulled out the bench. _Velvet yet again_. I started off with my techniques, but only stopped at the F major scales because I thought I shouldn't dwell too much on warm-ups. I sat on the bench for a while, contemplating what song I should have my fingers play. Moonlight Sonata Movement 1 by Beethoven seemed like a good choice. It seemed like a sad and depressing song, emphasized by the change in dynamics.

Once I mentally went over the notes, I began playing.

And playing.

I didn't stop for what seemed an hour, but I should have stopped about six minutes into the sonata, since it was originally composed for approximately six minutes. But my fingers had a mind of their own. They wove an intricate melody, adding on to the already beautiful composition, creating a collection of moods and secrets. I paid absolutely no mind to my hands, as my mind was wandering off to other topics of interest – like school.  
_  
Will they like me? Will they recognize me? What is it like – to be taught by different teachers, to be in the same room as other students? Will I have P.E? I hope not…_

Unconsciously, I heard the emotional notes come quietly to an end. I slumped over the piano, gazing up at the skylight that displayed a dull grey canvas of clouds. I stroked the ivory keys, making another gloomy melody with my right hand.

Lazily, I turned towards my furry friend. "Hmm…Salem?"

Salem sauntered over to me and perched on the velvet piano bench.

"Is there anything else you have to show me?"

She nodded once. "Many more _things_ but some will have to be put off for now."

I groaned. I wondered if part of those "things" included more gigantic and expensive rooms. Which reminded me…

"Salem? How _big_ is my closet?" _I'd really like it _way_ smaller than the picture my imagination is zooming in on…_I pleaded in my thoughts.

Salem grunted as she jumped off the bench and pawed her way back to the staircase. "Follow me and you will find out for yourself."

Sighing, I carefully trailed after Salem, going at a dreadfully slow pace in my bunny slippers and bathrobe. I gripped the stair railings tightly as I took one step, then another, gradually going down until I reached the door at the bottom.

"I think perhaps now you should open that door, my dear."

My fear grew and grew and I had a gut feeling that I wasn't going to like what I saw. Either the room was really big or was stuffed with pricey brand names. I prayed for the former, and hoped the latter wasn't correct. Worst case scenario: the closet was huge _and_ was stocked with expensive articles or clothing, jewellery, etc.

I opened the door with a small creak, and peeked through the racks of dresses. I never imagined luck hated me with this much passion.

Turns out that the closet was – in my perspective – _bigger_ than my bedroom itself, and unfortunately stocked in every corner imaginable. Drawers and shelves lined one wall, and pants and dresses on another. Then there was a vanity on yet _another _wall with a bunch of jewellery and accessories being shown off on the counter. From the looks of it, you could've run a whole shop in here and make tons of money at it, too.

There was only one person I knew who could – and _would – _be capable of achieving this torturous glam-room.

"Penelope." I hissed, inwardly slapping myself for not suspecting it was _her_ all along, after all. Besides, _she_ was the fashion-forward person in our little family back in Phoenix – she picked out most of my clothes, accessories, gowns for awards, and concert costumes. She even rallied with costume designers and make-up artists on the set of one of my tours or movies just because she wanted me to be her personal Barbie doll or who knows what she was thinking. Penelope thought fashion was some sort of religion – I didn't. I didn't see much sense in buying designer things either, I mean, they cost a lot yet served the same purpose as the clothes from Wal-Mart would.

I shook my head in disgust. It revolted me to think of how much money goes to waste on things like beauty. Money could be used in better ways, like charities or cures to life-threatening illnesses! I saw no point in wasting money that could've been used for something better, for something _useful_. Plus, I felt bad when people spent perfectly good cash on me for things like gifts and such. I owed them and they shouldn't take money for granted. Many other people out in the world don't even have enough clean water to survive!

"I suggest you should get ready for school, Gabriella. Because it is quite early, I shall not fear for you being late." Salem said while making her way back to my bedroom, leaving me alone in the monster-closet.

I sighed. I shrugged off my robe and slippers as I stumbled my way around the room, grabbing a pair of black jeans that – to my despair – hugged my curves, making them way more pronounced than I would've liked. Conveniently, I found a white tank top with the words "It's Complicated" printed across the torso. That pretty much summed up my life. I slipped on the tank and found a light blue blouse to go overtop of it. When I looked in the full-length mirror situated in the closet, you couldn't even see the words the tank top showed off – unless you had x-ray vision, which was very unlikely. Finally, I searched the monster closet for a comfy pair of shoes, but one pair wasn't all I found. I found a whole lot more shoes, probably enough to fill a small shoe store.

Groaning, I decided to take a better look at the shoes. Boots, sandals, slippers, running shoes, flats, stilettos…the selection was virtually unlimited. After a couple minutes of browsing, I picked out a pair of red Converse. I smirked at the colour choice, but the smirk was slowly replaced by a grimace when I thought of something else that was the colour red. _Blood_.

Shaking off the thought, I passed my room back into the bathroom to finish up.  
_  
Better put the contacts back in…I don't want to blow my cover._

Once my artificial eyes were back on my pale face, and my thick brown hair was tamed considerably, I made my slow retreat back to the bedroom. I risked a glance at the LED clock – 7:12 AM. I only spent about _two hours_? It seemed a lot much longer than that…

Salem was once again sitting on my massive bed, waiting. She nodded once at me in acknowledgement and scampered down, through the door that led to the exit, and was gone.

I took one step to follow Salem out the door when the obvious hit me.  
_  
_

_Am I dreaming?_

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**A/N - So what do you think of the chappy? Good? Bad? Tell me by REVIEWING!**

My dearest apologies for not including her high school experience in here but I thought I should save that for the next chapter...since this chapter (in my opinion) is long enough. Don't agree with me? Then review and you might get the next chappy faster! :)

Remember: the golden number is _20!_ Which means all I want is that puny number of 9 reviews to make chappy 5 up and running! And EDWARD _*teen fangirl scream*_ will PROBABLY be in the upcoming chapter! What do you say? Do you want the "probably" to turn into a "undoubtedly"? REVIEW! ;)

I send many e-apology cards to my readers...for the wait AND the lack of . :( Do you all forgive moi? And along with those apology letters, I bring along "Thank You" cards and party favours. :) For reviewing of course! I should ask Alice to plan a party and invite you all but *_sigh*_ she's "unavailable" at the moment. But you can see (if you can't see, then "read between the lines"!) that I'm thoroughly grateful for those reviews and little bursts of motivation! ^_^

But yes, my brain is as fried as the delicious little drumsticks sold at KFC...although not as tasty. So that probably explains my un-enthusiasm at the moment. _*groans painfully*_

**Magic cure to writer's block: REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! Please? :p**

How MANY reviews? Well, let's boost the review count up to 20! Hoorah for the next chapter! ;)

Ronnie - who is typing with powdery fingers from sugared doughnuts. WARNING: Do NOT give that gal sugar at all costs. Unless you WANT to lose your insanity along with her. Ronnie is now screaming "REVIEW!" to the computer screen uselessly. As if the computer can magically grant her wishes. Right.


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